


Virtuous

by TheLynx



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Kink Meme, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 12:14:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4019380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLynx/pseuds/TheLynx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan's stronger than he looks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Virtuous

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Meme fill. Prompt can be found [here](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/14591.html?thread=55450367#t55450367).

Lavellan tapped his foot agitatedly, arms crossed as he glared at the mage standing across from him. “No, Dorian, I will not agree to this.”

Dorian sighed in exasperation. “You’re the one with the mark. You’re the _Inquisitor_. We can’t just have you running around like a headless chicken!” He turned from the elf to thumb one of the titles on the shelves surrounding him as if considering it.

“I am not a defenseless child. I wear armor, I can dodge magic, and more often than not there’s a barrier around me. I can handle myself in a battle.”

“Of course you can!” The human turned back to him, never stopping his movement as he paced about the alcove. “But you’re reckless. Oh, dear me, I said that word again, didn’t I?” It was accurate, but not what Lavellan wanted to hear. “But I am not letting you fall in battle just because you couldn’t see what was coming up behind you. Next time, we’re bringing Cassandra along, and you’re going to let her take some of the attention from you.”

The entire argument had sprung from a recent near-tragedy in Emprise du Lion. Lavellan, confident as he was, had a tendency to jump right in the middle of the fray, shrugging off most hits as he sliced through swathes of enemies like butter with his greatsword. Even covered in barriers cast by Solas and Dorian, he still had vulnerabilities, as evidenced by the red templar whose sword had snuck through an opening in his armor. The wound had healed up nicely, but Dorian had not stopped worrying since then.

“The larger our group is, the more difficult it is to move about. You know that.”

“I also know that the Inquisition is useless without its Inquisitor. You know, you _are_ the only one who can close those rifts. You haven’t forgotten that, have you.”

Lavellan advanced on him, backing him up against the wall next to the window. He wasn’t necessarily angry, but he was definitely frustrated. “I don’t need coddling.”

“It’s hardly coddling, amatus,” Dorian said, head angled down slightly to look into the other’s eyes, as the elf was a full head shorter than him. “In fact, I would say—”

He ended that phrase with a short gasp, surprise evident on his face as Lavellan pushed Dorian the last inch back towards the wall, forearm against his chest. Confusion flickered across his face, and attempts at movement showed him that he was very well held against the wall.

“ _I_ would say we’re not bringing Cassandra with us. We’ve got plans already, and diverting Cassandra from her other duties would inconvenience others as well.”

Dorian still disagreed. “We don’t want a repeat of last time,” he said, voice turning breathy.

“We can avoid that without bringing her along.” Lavellan’s eyes searched his face, expression unreadable.

“Let’s give it a try,” he offered weakly. “At least one outing. You need to learn to fight with different group compositions, at the very least.”

He might sound more convincing if he weren’t trying his best to not rub his hips against the elf’s leg. He was succeeding, but just barely—Lavellan could notice him shifting awkwardly. Maker, how could such a small man pin him to the wall with just half an arm?

Lavellan grinned subtly then, backing off of Dorian and relieving him of the pressure, leaving him taking deep breaths and blinking as he came back to his senses. “Alright then,” he said, giving in, although he felt as if he’d won in some other way. “When we head to the Graves, she can come with us to test how we work as a unit. I’m not going to be any less—how did you put it?— _reckless_ than usual, however. And you have to afford her some barriers as well.”

Dorian nodded, still a little bit stunned from earlier and feeling like he had just woken up from a dream.

“Right then, I’ve got letters to write. I’ll see you later,” Lavellan said, briefly raising his hand as he left the library, leaving Dorian to fight off his arousal and sort out his thoughts.

He had a lot of thoughts.

* * *

 

The doors of the war room swung open and Cullen stormed out of them, brushing past Dorian roughly without even offering a greeting. Leliana and Josephine nodded politely as they made their exit, mouths pulled into thin lines. Whatever had happened in that room, it hadn’t been pleasant.

“I daresay you’ve run off all your advisors,” Dorian said, waltzing into the room and pulling the doors closed behind him. Most of the way, at least; enough that they wouldn’t be seen from the end of the hallway, and nobody would hear them anyway unless they were right outside. Considering Josephine was away for lunch, that provided them with as much privacy as they could ever want. “Cullen looked about ready to kill someone, although I once thought that was his normal countenance. Rough day?”

Lavellan scowled at the cloth map on the table before him, fiddling with one of the spare pins before laying it down gently. “This war in Orlais is ridiculous. Not only can’t the armies stop fighting, but they’re holding up merchants, too. We’re low on lyrium and even Leliana’s people can’t travel as easily as usual.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fighting demons and worrying about Corypheus can make it easy to forget about the problems people have.”

“Well, if you ever want to forget again, I can think of plenty of delightful ways to make that happen,” Dorian provided cheerfully, approaching until he stood next to the Inquisitor at the table. “But preferably not in this ghastly room. I do have standards, you know, which include spending time away from drafty areas.”

The elf considered the map for a moment, then grabbed one side of it, walking alongside the table to fold the map neatly in half, burying the markers and pins between the two halves and leaving half of the wooden table free. He returned to Dorian, who looked at him questioningly, and stood behind him, chest flush against the human’s back.

“I’m always up for ideas,” he purred into Dorian’s ear, moving his hands up to the other man’s shoulders. He pushed down gently yet firmly until Dorian’s chest and cheek lay against the table, arms spread out on either side of his head. He curled one hand tightly in Dorian’s hair to hold him against the table, and kept his hips right up against Dorian’s ass. Most of the elf’s body was touching or nearly touching his own.

“This is a new one,” Dorian murmured, face flushed. He could feel his own erection growing, and Lavellan’s was starting to make itself known against its backside.

Lavellan chuckled against him. “I admit, I didn’t think you’d be interested in this.”

Neither had Dorian, in fact, until their encounter in the library earlier that week. That Lavellan—tiny, elven, _heavily muscular_ Lavellan—could hold him down so easily came as such a surprise even when it should have been assumed. He could barely move from his uncomfortable position, although thankfully it wasn’t too bothersome at the moment.

“You remember our safeword?”

Dorian nodded, ear rubbing against the smooth wood. “Yes. _Halam_.” Meaning “end” in the elvish language. While what they were doing now wasn’t particularly dangerous and Lavellan knew what he was doing, it was still new, and while Dorian preferred to jump into things, Lavellan liked to make sure everything was going smoothly.

“Good,” he said, breath hot against his neck. He ran his free hand along Dorian’s side, earning a low moan even through the layers of clothing. He had no intentions of getting undressed in the war room, and left the clothing on Dorian’s torso fully buckled, much to the man’s frustration. He caressed his lover, nipping at his neck and ears, suckling at the earlobe viciously enough to pull out a whimper.

“You are sensitive, aren’t you?” His hand moved lower, teasing the side and front of Dorian’s hips and feeling him shiver beneath him. “My, how your body simply aches for me, vhenan.”

He cupped Dorian in his hand, and this time the mage gasped, relishing the attention while he had it. He tried to react with more of his body, but the elf’s iron grip prevented that, and the hand between his legs was removed far too quickly for his taste. “Amatus…”

“Patience. You are a virtuous man, aren’t you?”

Dorian bit his lip. Even if he resorted to outright begging, Lavellan would take his sweet time with him—sometimes even go slower, just to hear Dorian being reduced to that.

Lavellan let his grip on the man’s hair relax a little, only for him to say, “No. Harder.”

“Harder? I can do that.” He complied with the request, eyebrows raised and a gleeful expression on his face at Dorian’s reaction. The man was practically shaking with need by now, and he’d hardly been touched. “Oh, now that’s a good look for you, Dorian.”

He deftly untied the strings to Dorian’s breeches and slid his hand into them, grasping his member as he bit hard into his collarbone, eliciting a sound somewhere between a moan and a scream. Dorian groaned and tried to thrust, but Lavellan kept his hand around the base of his cock, limiting movement.

He continued to pay plenty of attention to Dorian’s neck, hand moving slowly over his cock but stopping whenever Dorian tried moving his hips. It was all difficult, frustrating, and Dorian felt like he would break and beg at any moment, but the tension and the grip on his hair, pushing his head onto the table was nothing short of divine. The calloused hand pumped him steadily, thumb moving over the tip every other stroke, and it was not quite enough to push him over the edge, but begging for more might just get him less.

A whisper of “amatus” still escaped his mouth, and he held back a wail as the hand was removed.

“Now, Dorian, this can’t all be about you.”

He couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement when he heard—and felt—Lavellan unlace his own breeches, hips still against his own. He would give a lot to have that cock deep in his ass right now, or even in his mouth—anything that might let him move.

When Lavellan began pumping himself, letting small gasps out against Dorian’s neck, he almost sobbed into the table. Here he was, aching for touch and relief, and the elf above him was pleasing himself, little thought spared for the human’s pleasure.

“You look incredible, vhenan,” he said, giving attention to Dorian’s ear again. Dorian moaned, grinding his ass back onto Lavellan’s busy crotch and earning him a chuckle. “Mm, I think not.”

His breaths grew shorter, and Dorian knew he was close. “Lavellan, please.” He didn’t know what he was begging for, but any change in the situation might have benefited him.

Lavellan ignored him, nipping at his sore neck instead. He let out a deep groan as his body shuddered, and the feeling put Dorian even closer to his own edge, though he couldn’t come just from that.

Once the elf’s breathing came back down to normal, he released Dorian and tied both their breeches back up after cleaning himself up with a rag he stuck in a pocket. “Here,” he said, pulling Dorian up to a standing position and helping him regain his balance. When he was satisfied, he pulled the taller man into a kiss.

“Thanks for that, Dorian,” he said, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll see you again later once we’re ready to leave, alright? Do have lunch before then.”

Dorian stared blankly at Lavellan’s receding back, processing what had just happened, before he realized his own erection was still asking for attention and there was no way he could wander the hallways without anyone noticing how much of a mess his hair was. “Maker, what have I started?” he whispered to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> May or may not add more chapters to this later, but for now it can be considered complete. Poor Dorian, I know.


End file.
